The Wistful Cipher

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 05:59:01 -

The feast was a lie. It tasted of ash and old wine. Margot sat at the head of the long oak table, her fingers stained with the purple residue of the grape, watching the guests. They were hollow things. Shapes in robes. They did not blink. They did not breathe. They only stared at her with eyes like polished stones, flat and unyielding. This was the Hall of Whispers. Or so the old texts claimed....

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